Rookie Storm
by Petty Officer First Class Boo
Summary: Chief Warrant Officer David "Bones" Atkins is placed in charge of a squad of Rookies from the 507th Maintenance Company. What happens when an unprepared unit gets pushed to the front lines? What will happen when all there is between a free nation and an annexation stands a rookie squad?
1. Chapter 1: Day In a Life of an Engineer

AN: This story is set in the year 2015. It pulls inspiration heavily from the game of Armed Assault 3. As I have found no Fan Fiction category for that game, I will fit this story into the Pre-Black Ops 2 2025 timeline. I hope you enjoy it. And if you don't know what Armed Assault 3 is, google it. Might not be some of your style of game but for those who love realism, please check it out.

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Rookie Storm

What happens when a backline unit gets pushed to the frontlines? When all the experienced and ready troops are wiped out in a modern blitzkrieg? Where all hope is completely extinguished and an undertrained, undermanned unit is all that stands between one foothold and an annexation. With one experienced Chief Warrant Officer Four and a squad of rookies, United States Army's 507th Maintenance Company is all that stands between a rolling wall of Iranian steel and a free Balkans.

"I hate my job," sighed the driver of the deuce and a half, the military's transport horse.

"And you think I don't?" the officer in charge of the six repair vehicles replied.

"Well I don't know," the young man muttered as he slumped over the wheel, "you're the chief after all. You must have it easy as an engineer."

"Kid," the officer muttered, "I used to fucking breathe dirt before I sat in this seat."

Chief Warrant Officer Four David "Bones" Atkins was in charge of the column. The convoy was full of misguided eighteen, nineteen and twenty year olds who strayed into the military. For education, money, or just plain yearning of becoming a warrior, he didn't care. All he cared about was his retirement money. He had a wife and three kids to support and at the age of thirty-five, he was nearing the end of his service. David had just made Chief Warrant Officer not even two years ago before being bumped up to CWO-4 for both his knowledge and dedication to the Army.

"What was it that you do again?" the youngster asked.

Bones shot him a spine-tingling stare.

"Sir…?" he whimpered out as he glanced to see the Chief's glare.

Bones sighed, "let's just say, I used to run around behind enemy lines before I was benched."

"Oh!" the youngster exclaimed as his imagination took over, "were you a paratrooper? Green Beret? Or even Delta Force themselves?"

Bones merely chuckled in response, letting the kid drone on with his ideas. It was his own way of finding entertainment while they drove down one of the roads of Lemnos, an island of Greece located in the northern part of the Aegean Sea. His truck driver was Private First Class Derek Strum. Bones had barely even remembered the boy's name before he was stuffed in the truck's passenger seat and driven off towards one of the United State's military bases to fix equipment. All the old man gathered was that the young man joined the military to fight 'the bad guys.' After almost eighteen years of fighting 'bad guys', he didn't really know who they were anymore.

Civilians, terrorists or child soldiers? He didn't know.

"…or maybe a post-human warrior!" Derek said, looking at Bones with a satisfied grin.

"Keep you eyes on the fucking road will you!" Bones screamed before the eager boy snapped his attention back to the trail ahead.

"Sorry sir!" he apologized, the truck swerving slightly before stabilizing itself on the road once again.

Bones's eyes glanced over to the khaki rifle rattling on top of the truck's glove box. It was a strange weapon in regular military service. Unlike the current service weapon, the MX 6.5, Bones carried the FN 2000 Tactical instead. His CO didn't care much, given his pedigree as a top-notch engineer. The old soldier went everywhere and anywhere to fix what ever the Army needed fixing.

The truck's radio exploded to life as Derek turned up the volume on the radio. Transmissions about the current movement on the invading Iranians were being broadcasted on encrypted Army channels. They were a real threat as they expanded like the old Roman Empire, and only a handful of battle-ready soldiers were stationed on the Greek islands.

"Shako One, Shako Actual, I'm only seeing fast PT boats in the distance. Nothing to report."

"Roger that Shako One, carry on."

"My god," Derek said with exasperation, "is there nothing at all?!"

"Calm down Donkey 1-1," the squad comms squawked, "there will be more bodies for you to chew on in your military career."

"Fuck my life!" Derek yelled and slammed his palm on the steering wheel.

The kid was just as hot headed as Bones when he was regular grunt.

The convoy pulled into a small military outpost. It seemed as if the outpost was manned by a handful hundred. Soldiers rushed to and from their post and barracks. Outpost Thor was an air defense site set-up by the United States in a networked system. Bones recounted about six or seven MIM-104 Patriot missiles were located at this one outpost. One truck carried sixteen missiles, do the math and that is a lot of firepower. Bones's column was tasked to repair one of the outer most Patriots. The truck was closest to the sea and some of the electronics were fried. It seemed like the malfunction was from the sea salt, or as the brass summarized it.

"Alright everyone," Bones grunted, the chief jumping out from the truck with his rifle, "let's replace the gear and move on to the next site. You know the drill!"

"Great," one of the bigger soldiers mumbled, pushing his way through Derek, "another day in a life of an engineer."

"Hey!" Derek yelled, offended.

"Keep you mouth shut Strum," the bigger soldier replied, "I'm already pissed off. Don't make me any more angry."

Derek kept his mouth shut as Private Bruce Keller carried a large toolbox in one hand and what seemed like replacement parts in the other. From what Bones knew, Keller was a forever angry, twenty year old soldier with a wife. He was struggling to hold a job in the civilian world before being dragged into the military. Armed with nothing more than a high school diploma and an engineer's knowledge, this was all he could do.

"Derek," a female voice said with a sigh, "try not to piss anyone off this time. Okay?"

"Y-yes ma'am."

The female made her way to the damaged Patriot, her body armor just brushing Derek's. There were three females in the squad and Sergeant Claire LeBlanc was one of them. Bones didn't know much about her. But from what Derek gossiped about, she was the one many of the men swooned over. The youngster described her as smart, charming and beautiful. As long as she could hold a weapon and fight, that's all Bones needed.

"Keep it to yo self Storm," a Corporal advised the rookie, "don't play with fire."

Another veteran of the team, Corporal Aaron Joshua, he was a rounded and respectful soldier. Might not sound like it, but he was a fine soldier. The man wielded the heaviest weapon with the smallest body Bones had ever seen. In his hands, the M249 SAW looked like a giant chainsaw more than a toy. For a small body, he sure did pack a punch.

The five made their way through the camp and to the damaged surface to air missile. Three missile operators were hunched over, surveying their equipment with their body armor off and service jackets tied around their waist. The three were taking in the cool Mediterranean air as the sun baked their skins. One of them spotted Bruce and waved him over.

"Glad you guys are here," the missile operator greeted, "we've been trying to fix this damn thing since yesterday. The electronics are fried to shit, we don't know what the hell's going on."

"Sea salt," Aaron said sarcastically.

"Bullshit," another one of the operators said, "what kind of sea salt fries electronics? The only plausible explanation is an EMP device."

"A what?" Derek asked blankly.

"An electromagnetic pulse. Aren't you guys supposed to be engineers?"

"Forgive him," Claire apologized, "he's new. We'll replace the parts and get out of your way."

"Do it fast," one of the operators said, "our bosses want our asses for dinner if this doesn't get fixed by sundown."

"Then step aside ladies," Bruce grunted and shoved one of the soldiers out of his path.

Bruce stepped up to the truck, his hands dropping his toolbox and spare wires as he gripped the thick rubber tubes leading into the missile canisters. With a small twist and a yank, he pulled out the tubing to reveal melted and burned out cabling leading into the Patriot missile. The cable was of extreme importance as it provided each missile with targeting data. Without it, they would just be heavy explosive rods.

"Fucking hell," Bruce grimaced, "look at this. It's a mess."

"Fo sho sea salts didn't do that," Aaron said.

"Did you guys see any weird activity near the sea?" Bones asked, the three operators stiffened as they realized the Chief was standing there.

"No sir," one replied back.

Bones saw one of them nudging each other.

"What," Bones stated firmly.

"Well…" one of the operator's voice trailed off, "there was a fishing boat that came by. After a few minutes there, the radios and radars got all weird. Scuttled and confused. Thirty minutes or so after that, they left."

"Strange," Bones muttered as Bruce continued to rip out the tubes and replaced them.

Very strange.


	2. Chapter 2: Another Day In the Sun

**AN: Don't worry guys, the action is coming in the next chapter. These two chapters are just to set up characters, factions and the setting itself. And as always, read and review and don't forget to enjoy.  
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Rookie Storm

The strange occurrences continued to happen across the island. Some citing mechanical malfunction while others were degraded through natural causes. Whatever it was, it gave the lazy men and women of the 507th something to do. Bones lived alone in an isobox, a long rectangular fitted with an air-conditioner, private bathroom and internet services, unlike the grunts sleeping in their bunks inside their barracks.

Bones stepped out of the cold shower and wrapped an olive drab towel around his waist, walking up to the mirror. Dark stubbles had grown around his jaw while his hair was still closely cropped to regulations. The old soldier wasn't about to become careless before his retirement. He walked out to see his service jacket, the Velcro arm tab filled with ribbons. Army Sapper, Ranger and Special Forces tabs adorned the bicep tab. Bones didn't wear the uniform, but rather resorted to the sanitized version with nothing more than his nametape and rank along with a few expert marksmen pins sewn on.

The Army Combat Uniform jacket hung on his closet's door. His weathered hands pulled open the door to reveal a black beret with a red and black shield, on top was a Fairbairn Sykes, two arrows and the ribbon underneath read 'De Oppresso Liber' pinned to the shield. Next to it was a red arrowhead with a knife and ribbon read 'Airborne' patch, and right besides that was his Fairbairn Sykes.

That's right. Bones was former Delta Force. He was forced to resign and change posts because of his wife. She worried about him being gone for too long, always leaving home and the only reason he was still in the military was for his pension pay after he left.

Three more weeks and he was done.

Bones closed the closet door, closed the door to the life he once dreamed so hard to have, he had to focus on raising a family now. He more responsibilities than shooting bad guys and drinking beer, Bones got dressed with a sigh of resignation. He heard a knock on the door as he was just finished looping his combat belt around his trousers.

"Chief, I was juuuusss-" Claire said, her voice trailing off as her eyes drifted down from his face.

"Just what?" David asked. Claire's eyes snapped up from his torso.

"Boss wanted you to put the squad to work sir," she said with a nervous laugh.

"Uh huh," David replied, his eyes narrowing as he closed the door.

He looked down at his body. What the hell was there to stare at? All there was were scars. Bones had the body of a very buff swimmer. His muscles were riddled with scars. Some were deep, while others, shallow and light in coloring. The former Special Forces soldier was in too many explosions and firefights than he could count, and his body told the tale. It was also partly due to Claire only knowing Bones for less than two hours. She had met him when Captain Ryan Courtland introduced him to the squad. The other was when they were fixing the Patriots. Bones shrugged on a khaki tee and his body armor. They were heavy, but he was used to it a long time ago. He picked up his rifle and moved towards the door.

Bones pulled open the door to feel the harsh sun sizzling his exposed skin. In the 507th, you either fixed all the things you were required to fixed or lazed around, waiting for the next job. Why must he get the back-ended squads? Was it his former training that made him fit for whipping rookies into shape? Did the brass think he was going to use his Delta Force charisma and charm to wow the recruits into behaving? No, those days were long gone. David "Bones" Atkins was nothing more than a disgruntled veteran waiting for his retirement day to come.

He spotted Derek walking towards the grunt's barracks with a couple of water bottles between his arms. Hydration was key to surviving the harsh Mediterranean weather. The soldier's barracks were air conditioned, sure. But that didn't mean they weren't baking in the sun every time they walked out of it. Bones followed his truck diver to his barracks. Inside, Aaron, Bruce, Derek and a couple other soldiers from different squads were huddled around a single TV. They were playing games from a console to relieve stress.

"I fucking owned you Aaron! Woo!" Bruce howled as the Corporal shook his head in defeat.

"Hey A-man," one of his friends whispered, "someone's here."

The Corporal's eyes glanced back once, then twice before the young man stood up and snapped a salute. Derek and Bruce sluggishly did the same.

"Chief Warrant Officer, sir!" Aaron yelled.

"At ease," Bones ordered, "where are your other squad members?"

"Sergeant LeBlanc, Private First Class Holland and Private Reed should be in the female quarters sir!" Aaron screamed back.

"Get your gear together and meet me outside the south gate in thirty mikes," Bones said before turning around and exiting the barracks.

"Hooah, sir!"

Roughly thirty minutes later, Bones was standing a couple meters outside the fences of the military outpost. He was sitting on a sandbag. In his arms was his rifle. He cradled it like a baby. After all, the thing did save his life on more occasions than he could count. With the six-man squad assembled, well, mostly assembled, Bones waited for the last one.

Derek.

Where was that adrenaline and testosterone filled eighteen year old? The answer came with the clanking of gear. His helmet was flopping on his head, rifle between his legs as his hands fumbled with his vest's strap. The Private came to a stop as he bumped into the Sergeant. He muttered her an apology before falling in line besides the two girls.

"Private Derek Strum reporting for duty, sir!" the young man reported.

"Why are you late Private?" Bones asked.

The Private mumbled something in response. Something Bones couldn't hear. The girl beside him nudged him to speak.

"I was chatting with girls, sir!" he confessed.

"And you think that was more important than my orders?" Bones asked, his voice booming. He could see that Derek's legs were shaking from fear. And just when he was about to reply, Bones waved it off, "never mind that. Your punishment will be decided later. For now, I have one question."

"Do you want a pool to relax in?" Bones asked with a raised eyebrow.

Before anyone could stop him, Derek yelled, "Sir yes sir!"

"Fucking hell…" Bruce hissed.

"You moron," Aaron mumbled.

"Great job," one of the girls replied in a low voice.

Sergeant LeBlanc just looked pleased with herself.

"Well," Bones said, standing up from the sandbag to reveal six shovels, "you'll have to dig yourselves one."

"Wait what?" Derek yelped, "can't I take that back sir?"

"No," Bones answered bluntly, "and I want it 30 feet by 12 feet. Hooah?"

"Hooah," mumbled the group as they went to pick up their shovels.

"Where's the spirit? Hooah?!" Bones screamed once again, this time his voice carried throughout the small camp.

"Hooah!"

Derek picked up his shovel and impaled it into the dirt. His boot slammed down on the shovelhead with a dull thud. The sun made each of them sweat in their uniforms combined with body armor while Bones looked on. Derek pulled down on the shovel, but didn't budge. He tried again and fell flat on his ass. Bruce on the other hand, was digging away. Like a knife through butter, he was digging out dirt faster than anyone in the squad was. Aaron and the two girls went at a steady pace, but the hole was only big enough to pile at best, five corpses in. Bones's eyes glanced to Sergeant LeBlanc, the NCO happily looking at her squad with satisfaction.

"Sergeant," Bones said and gestured to the shovels.

"Wait. Me too?" Claire asked as Bones nodded.

"It's a team building exercise Sergeant," Bones explained, watching the girl pick up her shovel, "you of all people should know better."

Bruce chuckled, "not even a pretty face can save you from the Chief."

"Shut up meat head," Claire grunted and smacked the back of Bruce's baldhead.

"Let's go people!" Bones yelled, "the pool isn't going to dig itself! The faster you dig, the faster you'll finish!"

"Hooah!" screamed Bruce in what seemed like a retort.

The sun crossed above Bones head as the men near the outpost gate asked about what they were digging. All four were elated when they went back to the guard post, with one of the military police elected to bring back some food for the Chief Warrant Officer. The private ran back with a simple meal that they served in the military bases. Nothing more than a tray filled with mash potatoes, block of spam and beef, a carton of milk and a container of melted slog like pudding. The Chief drank his milk as the squad continued to dig deeper. By this time, they were already waist deep in the dirt, but it wasn't deep enough. Bones wanted the pool to be at least seven feet deep on one side and five feet deep on the other.

"Chief?" Derek groaned, his voice raspy from a dry throat, "can I have a drink of water please?"

"No," Bones shot back bluntly.

"But Chief, I'm on the verge of collapse."

"You're not on the verge of collapse until you pass out or die. That's when you can take a sip of water," Bones replied as he shoved a mix of spam and mashed potatoes into his mouth, "you know what?"

The squad's heads immediately turned to the Chief, their throat dry and lungs heaving for air. All of them had been allowed to take off their gear. Bones didn't want to work them to death like slaves, he just wanted to bestow a little Delta Force wisdom through their training. No one was allowed to drink.

"The ones I think did the best will be allowed to drink," Bones stated, "is that fair?"

And before anyone said anything, Bruce piped up. "That seems fair sir!"

The Chief simply gave a nod and let the squad continued to work. Bruce, with renewed vigor, continued to dig until the sun was just inches above the horizon. He dug every single one's hole until he was sitting down by the pool's dirt side with a grin of his face. The team eventually leveled out the pool, creating a nice slope as Bruce rested. Bones stood up, with five water bottles in his pack.

"Good," he muttered, "now for the water bottles."

Bones zipped open his backpack and reached in, not bothering to show how many he had. He tossed one to everyone except for Bruce.

"Chief, what about me?" he asked.

"You?" Bones muttered, "you don't win anything."

"What?" the large soldier inquired, "but sir I –"

"You what? Won? But your team didn't did they?" Bones asked, "team cohesion. That's what this should have taught you today."

"Everyone out except for Bruce. You get two laps around the base. Go," the Chief ordered.

Without another word, the bigger squad member rose out of the ditch and ran towards the outpost fences. The rest turned to their barracks and mess halls. Bones was back in his own isobox, the Chief had his closet door open and his shirt off after the hot and sweaty day. Just after he had taken a cold shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, the door smashed open.

"Chief I think we need to," the fresh faced Private exclaimed as she stopped dead in her tracks, "uh…I could come back at a better time."

Why does this always happen to him?

"No," Bones stated, "it's fine. State your business."

"I was just thinking that we need to talk about the training. You know ramping it up bit by bit," the Private explained.

"No," Bones replied bluntly.

"Okay then," she breathed, "then may I ask why a jacket full of Special Forces tabs is hanging on your closet along with a black beret?"

Bones paused, watching the Private and her friend behind her, standing right beside the door.

"PFC Holland and Private Reed right?" The Chief asked.

Both nodded.

"Close the door behind you," Bones stated, "this does not get out to anyone understood?"

The both nodded again.

"I am former Special Forces, so I will not. I repeat, will not. Ramp up the training. I'm just going to keep it at this level," Bones quirked his eyebrow to add a subtle impression that he wasn't giving in.

"But what if we tell everyone?" the Private asked with a triumphant smile.

"I will just NJP you and your friend's asses for framing or gossiping about a superior officer."

Her smile dropped.

"Understood?" Bones asked staring at them for a brief second before nodded, "good. Now get out of here."

The two of them walked out the door, as Bones got dressed. He resumed his usual evening ritual, jogging around the base, eating, talking to his family back home and going to sleep. Today was a normal day for the Chief Warrant Officer.

Just another day in the sun.


	3. Chapter 3: We're On Our Own

**AN: Here you go folks, the action is starting now. Please enjoy the story and as always, read and review.  
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Rookie Storm

Another day, another job. The 507th Maintenance Company, 2nd Platoon, Charlie Squad was on another job to fix communications equipment and tanks at Outpost Fletcher. The 7th Tank Brigade, with total of thirty-five tanks had two failures. Both had their tracks ripped after training, not to mention a new couple of new wheels had to be replaced. The tank crews unknowingly ran over rocks and debris scraping against the bearings in their traction system. Motor transport repair units were already a commodity on the island, only the 507th had the know-how and experience to fix the one hundred and fifty tanks stationed on the island as per the new United States Army's Mobility Policy.

Bones's squad was sent to the base on their rotation. So far, they had fixed two broken down Humvees, replaced a hollowed out M777 howitzer barrel and two communications arrays damaged by the bizarre EM pulses being emitted from the boats. Just as usual for a tank base, the road leading up to the outpost was riddled with dirt and debris. It was hard to imagine how supply trucks got to and from the base.

With the window down, Bones could feel the cool sea breeze rushing through the ventilation holes in his lightweight ballistic helmet. Even though it was close to dusk, the sun still blasted through the glass. The heat burned Bones's skin to a crisp, reddish tan. Derek had it worse. The private was sweltering in his own sweat from wearing the combat jacket and his skin was as red as a lobster. Deep down inside, Bones was glad he was so used to the sun. The arctic warfare guys would have melted into a puddle of skin and bones by now.

"Shako Actual," the voice on the radio said with boredom, "Shako One."

"Go for message Shako One."

"Nothing to report except for the increase in fast patrol boats roaming the far seas, over."

"Roger that Shako One, Shako Actual out."

Derek released an exasperated sigh, "still nothing."

"And I hope there's nothing," Bones added.

"Three days have gone by since the increase in patrol boats," Derek said, "there has to be something happening. I mean, the BBC are talking about an imminent war in the Balkans. And so are CNN and Fox!"

"The media reporting on this doesn't mean shit," Bones replied.

The convoy of three trucks stopped at the gates before being let inside. At the back of the outpost were two tanks in front of a garage. Both had their tracks torn off and missed a couple of wheels. The tank column's CO was there to greet the repair team. Bones grabbed his rifle and jumped out of the truck.

"Captain William Andres," the Hispanic tank commander greeted as he extended his hand.

"Chief Warrant Officer David Atkins," Bones replied and shook the man's hand, "pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure to meet _you_," Captain Andres responded, "you guys are going to be the ones getting my tank column back in order and running."

"So," Bones said, walking up to the tank, "what happened exactly?"

"Well, to be short and simple. While out on a training exercise, my two lead tanks were transiting an area we didn't know very well. An old World War Two blockade still stuck in the ground after years of buried in who knows what got caught in the tracks and dislodged them. And before you know it, the tanks were rolling through rough dirt roads and scrapped up their wheels before they gave under the tank's weight.

Probably one of the worst days for the crew. They were about to reach the range to test out their new turret and cannon system too," Captain Andres explained.

"Don't worry," Bones said with a reassuring pat on the back, "we'll get it fixed."

The Chief looked back at the crew and waved for them.

"Holland, Reed, LeBlanc, Keller," Bones screamed, "get the gear out! You know the drill!"

"Roger that Chief," Bruce grunted in monotonous voice.

Bones watched the crew of four lumber towards the broken down armored vehicles like stiff logs. So far, they were shaping up to be a better squad. Better, but not one of the best he had seen and far from it. They were nothing more than trained monkeys with the will of a groundhog. Captain Andres and Bones watched the crew for a few moments, the four heaving the road wheels into place. The M1 Abrams had majestically made it this far into service with the M1A3 model being the latest and best in armored land warfare fighting. But the Iranians came well prepared with Russian T-100 tanks waiting to land on the island. Seeing the crew finally lock the wheel down in place, Bones waved for Joshua and Strum.

"Yes sir?" Joshua asked.

"Tell the convoy to spread out and search for malfunctions. We don't know the extent of the damage yet so make sure they seek out things that need to be repaired so we don't have to come back again," Bones ordered, the Corporal nodding in reply.

"All callsigns," Joshua spoke into the radio, "search and repair."

"Wilco Donkey 1, convoy is on search and repair," Bones heard the male voice reply in his headset.

"You two are with me on the comms array," Bones ordered before turning to Captain Andres, "we'll see you in a bit sir."

"Take your time Chief," the Captain replied, continuing to watch the repair crew.

Bones made his way to the command post. The 7th Tank had Colonel Rudy Rupert in command. He pointed the three towards the right direction. At the center of the entire command post were six giant antenna arrays the size of tree trunks. Like extensive roots, grew hundreds upon hundreds of wires slithering messily from the towers into three main server bays. The military had kept the circuit boards standard for all systems for easy replacements. Although low in numbers, they were always useful to have on hand rather than having none at all. Joshua opened the server's doors to find banks of burnt circuitry. Luckily, only two or three boards were burnt. The pulse was strong enough to override the surge protection and burn through two boards before being stopped by the board's own fuse.

"Oh my lord," Joshua muttered, "this is some powerful stuff."

"Can you replace it?" Colonel Rupert's gruff voice grunted from behind Bones.

"No problem sir," Bones replied, "we'll be done before you know it."

Derek feed Joshua the boards as the Corporal pulled out the arm length, burnt boards. One by one, each of the first rows were replaced and soon all three were brand new. Joshua gently closed the doors and slapped his hands together with a satisfied smile. The communications array was working again. Colonel Rupert gave a sigh of relief, he was happy to have high command off of his shoulders. Bones felt the hairs on his neck stand. Like someone hovered a statically charged balloon over your hair. You could feel it and Bones didn't like the feeling. Sparks erupted from the sever banks, Joshua's arms coming up to protect him from the electronics.

"What the fuck in the Schwarzkopf's grave is happening?!" Colonel Rupert exclaimed.

Bones squinted.

Not just three boards were burnt out this time, all of them were.

"Donkey 1," Bones heard his squad comms squawk to life, "we've got a uh…problem here."

"What sort of problem," the Chief grunted, walking out from the post.

"All of the electronics are fried. No goes everywhere," the voice replied.

"How come our comms aren't?" Derek asked brainlessly.

"They closed circuit and guarded from EMPs genius," Joshua replied.

Bones heard a sonic boom explode overhead. His eyes tracked the shape as it darted into and out of the Mediterranean clouds. Rain started to fall from the sky. During bright sunshine, rain was falling. It was a very bad omen. Those weren't the shape of F-35 Lightnings. Those were not the shape of any NATO or allied aircraft.

"What the hell are those fighter jocks doing flying over us like that?" Derek said and whistled in awe.

"Those aren't our fighters…" Bones muttered as he saw bigger, fat shapes floating slowly towards the island, "those are Iranian Su-50s."

Bones turned towards the trucks and started sprinting.

"Everyone get to the fucking trucks!" Bones screamed.

"What the hell are you doing Chief?" Captain Andres yelled back.

"We are at war sir," Bones replied, "that was a Su-50."

"What?" Andres muttered and looked to the sky.

Bones's hears went quiet, ringing replacing sound. One strong gust of air buffeted his body. He was thankful that he was wearing body armor today. The Chief was used to war. There was one thing he wasn't used to. Ringing, the Earth underneath him shaking and the screams of wounded men.

All three were here.

Sound resumed. Screams of agony ripped through the explosions. Bones looked back to see a column of tanks destroyed and in flames. Men were rambling through the outpost, on fire. Others had their legs instantly amputated from fast moving shrapnel with blood pouring out of their missing limbs. This was visceral.

This was war.

"Everybody in!" Bones ordered, "now!"

"Chief!" Bones heard someone scream, "chief!"

It was LeBlanc. She was on the ground, her right trouser leg torn with blood soaking the fabric. She was hit. Bones sprinted to action. Shit, he had to go. Now. He got to her and slung Claire's arm over his neck. The former Special Forces soldier easily pulled the light body towards the truck. Derek had already started the vehicle and his face was draining with color as tanks slowly were destroyed one by one. Laser guided bombs homing in on their targets with scary accuracy.

"Go!" Bones yelled, "fucking go! Foot to floor, now!"

Bones had already shoved Claire into the middle seat when he was grabbing the truck's frame. The convoy moved out as the base slowly torn apart behind them. Acceleration was never a forte for the deuce and a half. By the time the repair trucks were out of the outpost gate, the giant shapes were dropping small tiny droplets. Iranian paratroopers were jumping into take Lemnos by force. Claire's leg was bleeding from shrapnel and Bones was working fast to stop the bleeding. His one hand was pulling out the bandage while the other was getting battlefield-clotting agents from the truck's medical kit. She hissed when the white powder touched her wound, the Chief wrapping the bandage tight against her skin.

"Fuck," she muttered.

"You alright?" Bones asked.

"No need to baby me Chief," she replied, "just do what you must."

"Sir," Derek wheezed.

"Just go straight!" Bones yelled as he saw shell shock creeping into Derek's eyes.

"Hey Derek?" Claire said.

"Y-yes ma'am?" he muttered back.

"Is this the war you signed up to fight? Is this the war you wanted?!" Claire asked angrily.

"Grip yourself Sergeant," Bones grunted, his hands pulling the knot tight, "don't scare the Private too much."

Bones could see the first batch of paratroopers landing behind them. Their RPG was out and the missile was launched in a blur of light. One moment, the convoy was still six vehicles. Now, they were just four. His mind was focused on the radio. Hands fumbling with the knob, he switched frequencies and held the radiophone up to his ear. As soon as he flicked on the power, a loud screech screamed in his ears. Bones squeezed the transmit and spoke.

"Donkey Actual, Donkey Actual to Fletcher, how copy?"

Nothing.

"Donkey Actual to Fletcher."

Still nothing.

"Anyone?" Bones asked before throwing the phone at the window, "fuck!"

"We've lost four guys already sir," Claire reported.

"I know."

The three trucks came to a screeching stop as they encountered a group of landing paratroopers. They weren't scared of the soldiers. It was a utility vehicle that was floating close behind. The car had a giant M2 browning fifty-caliber machine gun on it and it was going to be able to punch fist-sized holes into the giant two-ton and a half trucks. Derek slammed the brakes. Bones felt the truck coming to a quick stop as he had a brief stare down between the paratroopers. A few seconds later, those which seemed like an eternity, he felt shards of glass from the windshield explode. The sharp material sliced into his face. Derek screamed as Bones pulled Claire towards the passenger door.

"Everyone out!"

Four soldiers let their weapons loose, Bones pulling Derek down from the seat while bullets ripped into the metal behind the Private was just sitting. His left hand groped for the FN 2000. Bones quickly found the weapon as Derek had his head in his hands. The Chief grabbed the MX 6.5mm and shoved it into the Private's face, forcing him to hold something. He quickly slapped him once and locked eyes with the Private.

"Follow! Me!" Bones screamed, the firing slowing to a lull.

The Chief crawled towards the passenger door and felt himself slam into something hard. His shoulder went numb as he quickly found the cold of the dirt ground. The Chief quickly got up and side stepped to get a line of sight on the enemy. In his peripheral vision, he saw Claire draw her pistol. In one unified motion, the pair let loose their rounds on the enemy. Just as the enemy switched their aim from the truck to Bones, six rounds had already passed through his body. All that was left was a limp body when the soldiers hit the floor. Bones dropped the mag and slipped a new one in, his eyes quickly counting up the soldiers left.

Six.

Six from twelve in the convoy was left.

"Derek," Bones grunted.

"Y-yes s-s-sir?" the young soldier stuttered, face full of tears and dirt.

"Help the Sergeant up, we're not far from outpost Fletcher. We can make in within the hour to the outpost before the enemy arrives," Bones explained.

"But sir," Private Reed piped up, "we have to wait for reinforcements."

"The radios are fucking jammed, the island is blacked out. We have no air support, no ground support and each second the infantry and armor are being taken out!" Bones screamed to hammer the point home.

"We are on our own!"


	4. Chapter 4: Survival

**AN: This chapter has no action and serves as a set up piece for things to come. Just like war, there will be times when there is action and when there isn't. This story is set to reflect that rollercoaster. And as always, enjoy it and please review.**

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Rookie Storm

Three days. Three days since the Iranians have invaded Lemnos. The US Army's surface-to-air missile defense network, down. It's communications and satellite, down and jammed. Tank and Stryker battalions, obliterated. Only a handful of surviving soldiers and armored vehicles still stand ready to fight back on the island. Only the newly issued closed circuit squad communication radios worked. All satellite, encrypted and coded transmissions were jammed. It seems like their jamming techniques were to fill the airwaves with a load of random, white noise. The only way of getting anything through was one of the Iranians radios themselves. It seems like their radios sent off a burst of coded noise to be decrypted by receiving radios.

Whatever it was, Bones needed those radios.

The 507th Maintenance Company, 2nd battalion, Charlie squad was down to nothing more than a single Humvee, two Strykers, a month's worth of MREs and just enough firepower to arm a Ranger battalion. This included everything from pistols to rifles and M136 AT-4 anti-tank rockets. The squad was still a six-man team, as they found no survivors on their return trip from the tank base.

Their best chance of getting any help was from a Marine detachment on the neighboring island of Stratis. One single flare would alert the Marine detachment to action. Bones only hoped that the Iranians didn't sack them yet.

"Hey boss," Derek, "what do I do with the radios?"

"Keep them, you never know when the airwaves are going to be free again," Bones replied.

Bones turned to watch Sergeant LeBlanc, Private First Class Holland and Private Reed start a fire. They obviously knew how to do it, but Bones was worried about the smoke giving away their position. With that in mind, Bones had Corporal Joshua and Private Keller on lookout duty. The shift lasts four hours before they switched. Bones and LeBlanc were up next. The Iranians had moved fast, their PT boats firing off their EMP devices all at once, a single unified burst taking down all of the US Army's networks. So much for a sophisticated defence network when a single EMP could bring it all down. After that, came the fighter-bombers and paratroopers.

The island was taken in a single day.

"When you start a fire," Bones instructed the girls, "make sure to dig a deep hole first. Then, stretch a tarp over it to make sure the smoke dissipates."

"And why should we do that?" Private First Class Holland snarked, "more training?"

Just as the Chief was about to speak. Claire answered for him, "because he's the boss, okay? If you want to survive, follow his orders."

Bones nodded, thanking the Sergeant silently. The Chief walked over to the Stryker Derek was in. The young rookie had the pleasure of sorting their equipment into neat piles. Bones sat near the door, his rifle, the FN 2000 Tactical, naked of any attachments. He picked out a couple from the limited pile. Inside the Stryker. A silencer for running guerrilla operations, magnified EOTech for maximum versatility, a fore-grip for stability and an infrared coded laser for night operations. The Chief saw Derek sitting down next to him, the young Private done with his work.

"Hey Chief," Derek greeted, "would you mind if I stick some of those on my rifle?"

"Go ahead," Bones said, as his eyes glanced to the Private's rifle, "can I see your weapon?"

"Yeah," Derek replied, "no problem sir."

The MX 6.5mm, the new US Army's infantry rifle replaced the aging M16 and M4 variant rifles. Phased in during the late 2013s, the rifle was relatively new to the service. Instead of rejecting the Remington ACR and Robinson Armament XCR, the US Army mixed to two together to create the MX 6.5mm. Firing the larger and heavier 6.5mm, the rifle packs twice as much punch than the FN2000 and M16's 5.56mm round.

The Private's rifle was crusted with dirt and the barrel was dirty with gunpowder residue, which was understandable from recent action. Bones handed his rifle back and hoped he wouldn't go overboard with the attachments.

"A little bit of this, a little bit of that," the Private murmured, tightening the attachments.

What Derek came up with was truly horrifying. The MX 6.5mm, looked like it got turned into a science fiction laser gun with multiple barrels to fire from. Bones opened his mouth to talk, before closing it again and opening it.

"What the fuck is this?" Bones asked, confused by the happy soldier.

"Good attachment choices?" he replied.

Bones stared in horror as he examined the rifle. On the top rail, the bastard mounted a sniper scope and to accompany it, night vision scope attachments. Towards the front end were flashlights, laser pointers, a suppressor, a bi-pod and a foregrip. God was it heavy. The weapon weighed like the age old and tested M249 Squad Automatic Weapon. It was replaced by the automatic riflemen variant of the MX 6.5mm. Bones gave the weapon back to Derek, who rested the bi-pod on the ramp of the Stryker.

"So?" Derek asked with a pleased grin.

"So? Try lifting it," Bones ordered.

Derek gave the weapon a life. His biceps twitching as the weapon was amazingly lifted from the ground, "I see your point." He wheezed.

"We're fighting a light, fast and agile war. No time for any of that World War One style trench line battle," Bones stated, "take everything off and start over again. This time ask yourself, 'what can I do to make this weapon as light as possible?'"

"Okay…" Derek muttered as he pulled the attachments off the rifle, "a red dot sight for fast aiming, foregrip for stability…"

As if the young solider had just built something for the first time, he exclaimed, "and done!"

The weapon looked more like an infantry rifle. Although it still weighed much more than he would like, it seemed as if an operator would use it and less like something a clone trooper from Star Wars would carry. Bones sighed and patted the soldier on the back, "there you go!"

Bones glanced at the girls, they had a fire going and the smoke floating into the sky wasn't too bad. It was a deep ditch with a tarp hanging a fair ways over the fire and there was enough wood to keep the fire going for a long while. Just as Bones walked towards the small campfire, Joshua and Keller came back from their watch duties.

"Chief," Bruce stated.

"Report?" Bones asked.

"Nothing much 'cept for the Iranians moving their armor and infantry onto land. They distributin' they force evenly among the island and it seems pretty light for an annexation force," Joshua replied.

"Seems like they have to go back to get their next batch of troops," Bones muttered to himself, "we'll probably have two weeks tops to contact the Marines or HIGHCOM before they roll in with more reinforcements."

"Roger that," Joshua nodded.

"You're up next boss," Bruce reminded, "you and boss woman."

"We'll see you guys in four hours," Bones said with a small nod, acknowledging Keller's reminder.

Bones walked away with Claire, the Chief helping her along. The forest was thick and great for concealment. It took the small squad three hours to get the Strykers into the forest and camouflaged. They tracks were covered by natural rain from the island. It was frequent when the sun was out and for whatever reason, the mud was already full of boot prints by the time the Stykers were inside the forest. It seemed like the paratroopers were busy.

Bones settled the Sergeant on a small clearing he and Joshua cleared out. It was well concealed, with only a few holes to shoot out of and observe what was happening. The former Special Forces soldier sat down next to her and took off his helmet. Heat was wearing them down slowly, but the shade of the forest made it bearable.

But, just barely.

His hand reached into his vest's admin pouch, full of pens, maps and a notebook. Clutched in his weathered fingers, out came the black beret. Bones's isobox was left untouched by the bombing although, holes from shrapnel dotted the entire metal box. The Chief had retrieved his old Delta Force ACU, beret, boots and special equipment he left The Unit with. With the 507th literally gone, it seemed stupid to still be the Chief. He had to become a Delta Force soldier once more to survive.

Bones pulled the black beret over his sweat filled head. It was much better than having a ventilated helmet covering your hair, much better to have cloth rather than layers of Kevlar and plastic. Claire seemed to glance at him. Then she looked back again to make sure before asking, "is that your's, sir?"

"Yeah," Bones breathed.

"How come you didn't tell us?" Claire asked as if he had betrayed her trust.

"It was irrelevant," Bones replied, "you don't need to be a Special Forces soldier to be an engineer Chief. It's the other way around."

An awkward silence fell between the two soldiers.

Bones shuffled. He placed his rifle on his knee, prepared to fire at the first sign of trouble. Claire shifted her sitting position before hissing at the wound. Her weapon, the MX 6.5mm was gone when they escaped the tank base, only to be replaced a shorter and lighter sub-machine gun: the KRISS Vector. She was pleased with the weapon used by the tank crews and Bones summed that it also suited her.

Claire moved a bit more before saying, "you know, I never expected this war to happen."

Bones was silent.

"It's funny isn't it," she scoffed, "I joined the Army to get into college. Even if, even if! I knew we were on the brink of war. It's almost stupid. I could be home right now, sipping a warm cup of hot chocolate with my sisters and parents."

"You're here now," Bones breathed, turning to her and gave her a reassuring smile, "that's all that matters."

"I know," Claire muttered in response, "it's just that, I'm feeling dizzy and nervous all the time now and, and…"

"Its just Combat Stress Reaction," Bones replied, "it's normal. I'm hoping we hit Outpost Fletcher again tomorrow night."

Claire looked at Bones, worry in her eyes. "What do we do until then?"

Bones sighed and looked back at her, his dull hazel eyes catching hers.

"Survive."


	5. Chapter 5: Raid and Liberation

**AN: This chapter's ending wasn't as great as I thought it would be, but the would have to do. Chapters from now on will take longer to write since most of it is now focused on the main war itself rather than character development. I hope you enjoy and as always, please read and review.  
**

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Rookie Storm

The only easy day was yesterday. One whole day had passed, and then some. Bright light from the sun had gone down and the world was once again plunged into darkness. Brisk winds flowed through the island of Lemnos as the Iranians had a tight grip on the area. Gunfire and explosions were frequent, the oppressors squashing down pockets of both US military resistance and local uprisings. The Greeks living on the island both have one thing with the United States soldiers: they all despised Iranian rule.

507th Maintenance Company, 2nd Platoon, Charlie Squad was in position for a quick raid into Outpost Fletcher. The entire west side of the outpost was plain fields and rolling hills, while the east and southeastern side was a forest. Commanders often sent the off-duty soldiers into the forest for training. This time, it wasn't training.

It was real war.

Both Keller and Joshua were positioned strategically for crossfire, their Knight's Armament Company Light Machine Gun or as it's know to the United States Army: the Mark 200. Both were unsilenced and loud. They were only used as a last ditch attempt at deterring the enemy. Everyone was armed with a silenced rifle or sub-machine gun.

Bones, Derek and Holland would be the raid team while Reed was on overwatch. Claire had to stay and watch over the vehicles, her wounds still not completely healed. She protested but Bones quickly made her see logic. Reed was armed with the age tested Mark 14 Mod 0 Enhanced Battle Rifle. She was high up in a tree in the middle of the crossfire, trained to shoot by Bones. The former Special Forces soldier was both a master sniper and engineer before retiring from his elite job only few could do.

Bones was surveying the area with his thermal binoculars. Colors of blue, red and yellow were cascaded in a sea of dark blue. He sat there with Derek and Holland for the past two hours just surveying the movements of the Iranians. Nothing else, just surveying. Every two to three hours or so, a squad of Iranians would cross along the forest and loiter for fifty minutes. They had only a mere two hours to gather what they need and leave.

"Fucking fly," Derek hissed as he slapped himself in the face.

"Derek," Holland groaned, "you've been doing that every goddamn five minutes. Just stop doing it!"

"Please for the love of god you two just shut the fuck up!" Bones hissed, "I'm trying to not get us killed getting food and supplies!"

Just as Bones hissed at the two youngsters bickering at each other, the patrolling squad came into view. Bones shoved the binoculars back into his pack and drew his rifle. With a small pull, the night vision goggle slipped over his left eye. It as one of the old equipment Bones had carried over with him from his past duty. Bones's left hand gripped the foregrip, the laser activating from the pressure pad. One small ray of bright green shot out from the rifle and rested on the squad leader. Two others targeted the man next to him.

Their primary objective was just to get more supplies and search for anyone still alive inside the outpost. After four days, no one would be the wiser to go looking for trouble. Bones didn't want anyone to be killed in the raid. Killing an Iranian soldier breeds suspicion and suspicion leads to more security in general, making life harder for other American forces to get supplies.

Just like clockwork, fifty minutes later, the squad moved on. Bones waited for a few moments before tapping Derek and Holland on the shoulder.

It was time to move.

Bones got up and sprinted towards the outpost. His gear was lightened for maximum mobility. He sacrificed his usual plate carrier stuffed to the brim with ceramic armor plates for a Kevlar padded load-bearing vest. The Army's combat uniform replaced by a simple ventilated tee and the exposed skin, smeared with camouflage paint. Bones was turned into a boogey monster.

The trio slipped past the lax patrols. There were too few people to guard all of the installations and instead of choosing to patrol a few, they tried to spread their forces around all of them. The scene inside was both horrifying and gruesome. Bodies of United States soldiers, men and women alike, lay dead on the ground. Most with a bullet right between the eyes, others burned and some had their bodies torn in half by artillery and tank shells.

Bones could hold his dinner back. The Chief saw this sight far too many times. Holland and Derek fell to their knees, bile rising into their mouths. Both were hunched over the ground as the stench of rotting flesh burning into their minds. Bones took a moment to pay his respects to the dead and moved on. Screams erupted from the small Iranian camp next to the outpost. They had set up a base a few hundred meters away from the outpost to save themselves from the stench. The cries of agony were raw, desperate and most important of all: female. Bones didn't know what they were doing to the female soldiers. But whatever it was, they were going to pay for it.

"Those monsters…," Holland murmured as she wiped the bile from the corners of her mouth.

"Focus," Bones hissed, "spread out and find anything we can eat or use as medicine. We're bound to find some survivors in this chaos."

The screams only intensified, there was only one. Then two, three and many more joined them. Bones tried to keep himself focused. It was the only thing keeping him sane, a goal to keep him moving forward and not curl into a ball.

Get his squad home and alive.

Gunshots, they echoed throughout the plains and forest. The screams were snuffed out like flames being extinguished. Anger festered inside the soldier, he felt so…helpless. He shoved everything he could scavenge into the pack he had. On his left forearm was a Luminox watch he was given when he entered into Delta Force. It was an old school mechanical watch with a feature to ring an alarm inside the soldier's headset when time was up. He could hear just that. The patrol should be moving out from the edge of the forest.

"Did you hear that Chief?" Reed asked, her voice seemed to be stifled in both tears and anger.

"Yeah," Bones breathed, "I heard it all."

"I wish we could do something, you know. Liberate them. Just something," Reed muttered.

"If we only had a force assessment we-" Bones started, just to be interrupted.

"Fuck the force assessment," Keller spat, "we do this for us. For honor, for country, for brother!"

Bones stood for a moment. If he did this, people will get hurt. If he didn't, people will still die. Better to free the soldiers and let them have an honorable death rather than die at like dogs at the hands of their enemies. The Chief reached back into his back and withdrew a small six-propeller drone, collapsed into the size of a basketball. With a flick of a button, the drone extended its legs and spun up its silent propellers. Bones let the unmanned vehicle fly into the darkness. In his right hand was a PDA.

The Chief set its course for the camp.

"Keller, Joshua, position yourselves to the camp's four and two. Reed, readjust for six hundred meters. Make sure to take all patrols as quickly and quietly as possible. Hooah?" Bones ordered, deciding his final course of action.

"You got it boss," Keller replied with excitement in his voice.

"Amen to that!" Joshua said.

"Yes sir!" Reed whispered in a cheerful voice.

"Are you sure we can take them on Chief?" Derek asked, "we're just five people."

"They don't know that," Bones replied, "for all they know, we could be an entire battalion of angry bees."

Bones looked back at the PDA as his headset beeped. Force assessment of the enemy from his Parrot drone. Twenty-six enemy combatants, two light armored vehicles and simple, quick set up barracks to live in while the more concrete quarters were being delivered. It was a single platoon of paratroopers that captured the outpost with the help of air support and ground armor. None of the tanks or APCs were here, maybe they had a fighting chance with their forces spread this thin.

"Prep for assault," Bones ordered the two.

"Which means?" Holland asked.

"Frags and flash pin out, tape on. Mags lined up from full to empty. Gear squared away and fire selector on full auto. We're aiming to strike fear and kill, this is not a stealth mission anymore," Bones explained, the Chief flicking the safety off of his rifle.

"We're on a raid ladies and gentlemen."

Slipping through the fences that once kept them save, the trio headed straight into the hornet's nest. The space between the outpost and the enemy camp was around five hundred meters with a dozen or so patrolmen circling the post. Bones could hear his boots splashing against the muddy grass, the sound of his heartbeat pounding his ears. The screams started up again. Small little yelps of helpless cries and the sound of the enemy camp's generators roaring away helped cover up the fire team's movement. Another patrol was crossing the trio's path. Bones held up his fist. The fire team stopped.

Waiting.

Bones watched the patrol bicker among themselves. One of them paused, his hand reaching inside his vest to pull out something. The soldier instantly became his target. Bones looked back and pointed his finger towards the ground.

'Stay here.'

The Chief pulled his weapon's strap tight against his chest. Metal slid smoothly from a sheath strapped to the vest, the CFB Tanto Gerber glowing dimly in the moonlight. The patrolman lit up his cigarette. It was a big mistake. Light discipline was paramount in darkness and the enemy wasn't enforcing it, thinking they had the upper hand.

But they were about to be proven wrong.

The former Special Forces soldier snuck up on the lone soldier. Blowing a smoke circle, the Iranian didn't see a thing. Bones placed his gloved hand over the soldier's mouth. The cigarette was snuffed out as Bones's hand pushed the cigarette right into his face. He could hear the ashes burning the lips and mouth of the opposing soldier. The Chief pulled his right hand back, blade gleaming in the darkness as it sliced the air and straight down into the chest of the Iranian. Bones could feel the armored vest gave way to the sharpened tip. The easiness of the knife slicing through tissue like butter as the Iranian emitted a small grunt before going limp in his arms.

Bones placed the corpse on the ground. He looked back and waved forward the two waiting engineers. The weapon strap came loose, the FN 2000 aiming its holosight at the patrol leader's head. Everyone picked their own targets. They would only fire when they heard the cough of Bones's rifle. He could feel the trigger slowly depress before a two-burst bullet was released from his weapon. Two distinct kicks amidst a volley of silenced rifles.

Three bodies collapsed into the muddied ground.

Blood was running down the grassy ground, the rain started to fall in the middle of the night. Crickets were chirping, the rain showering down upon the area, covering the approach of the fire team as they were outside the Hesco walls. One small head popped up to survey the area. It was a pretty small base, couple of container like houses for the Iranians and bigger tarp tents for the prisoners of war. There were few Iranians walking around and Bones estimated at least twenty to thirty minutes before the next group would come.

"Reed," Bones whispered into his headset.

"Yes sir?" She asked.

"I want you to open fire when I click the radio comms twice," Bones explained, "Then, Joshua and Keller, fire at sporadic rates to suppress the enemy. Make it seem like we're a platoon. Only open up when Reed fires a couple of shots. Reed, your main targets are sentries. Joshua and Keller, your targets are everyone but the prisoners and us. Hooah?"

"Yes sir," they whispered back.

"Honor. Country. Brother," Bones replied before reloading his rifle.

"Let's do this."

Bones climbed over the Hescos before helping the other two into the base. Lights swept up and down the area. The area of the base was sloppy, the prisoner's tents were right next to where the fire team was. Bones hugged the container wall, peaking out to survey the area before assaulting. The main street was scarce and the two only vehicles were unmanned. Bones advanced, moving towards the tents. Plastic flapped with the wind only to reveal bodies lying in mud on the inside. Silent sobs could be heard.

Bones knelt down and slowly pulled back the tent flap.

"You guys okay?" he asked.

"Oh god!" he heard a voice exclaim. The sound muffled by the rain, generators and the splashing of boots against mud.

"Quiet," Bones hissed, "how many people are inside."

"T-t-thirteen, fourteen? The last one was just brought back here," the female voice replied.

"Last one?" Holland piped up.

"The officers, they were…" her sentenced faded into nothingness.

"They were what?" Holland pressed her question.

"Raped," she reverted to sniffling again.

"We don't have time for this shit," Bones muttered, "get your people together and ready to move out."

She nodded and sunk back into the shadows, before coming out and nodding.

Bones squeezed the transmit twice on his radio. Moments later, Bones heard two grunts escape from the outpost tower nearest to him. Bullets struck metal before finding its mark on the northern outpost towers. Within seconds of each other, another volley of machine gun fire erupted from the tree line. Red tracers crisscrossed the sky as Bones pulled out two smoke grenades from his backpack. He pulled out the pin and waited for a few seconds. Bones chucked the grenade into the middle road. Smoke exploded from both ends of the grenade, white smoke covering the escape of the thirteen to fourteen man escape.

"Everyone on me!"

Bones was on point for the escape with Holland and Derek bringing up the rear. The American soldiers seemed in good enough spirits to pick up a weapon and fire it at the alerted enemy. Many rushed towards the small base's walls while others were running through the white smoke, in hopes of finding their way towards their posts. Gunfire exploded overhead, smoke filling Bones's lungs as he ran for the exit. Shadows popped up left and right, the soldier lifting his weapon to fire. It was a blur of darkness and it felt like an eternity before he emerged on the other side of the smog, panting. With the small group of men and women he had freed from the enemy, Bones felt like the forces on the island had a fighting chance.

It was a liberation.


End file.
